


Army of the Night

by Arthuria_PenDragon



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms
Genre: Blackfyre (Sword), Blood and Violence, Character Death In Dream, Cold Weather, Dark, Dreams and Nightmares, Future Fic, Gen, Homework, Inspired by Music, Jaime Lannister Needs a Hug, Jaime Lannister Redemption, Jon Snow is Not Called Aegon, Jon Snow is a Targaryen, Jon Snow's Name is Jaehaerys, King Jon Snow, Mentions of Jonerys, Nightmares, One Shot, POV Jaime Lannister, R Plus L Equals J, Song: Army of the Night (Powerwolf), Targlings (ASoIaF), The Long Night, Valyrian Steel Swords, Visions in dreams, dark future, possible future
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-24
Updated: 2020-07-24
Packaged: 2021-03-04 19:29:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,462
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25471672
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arthuria_PenDragon/pseuds/Arthuria_PenDragon
Summary: Jaime dreams of cold and darkness.(It would be decades later, that he would figure it out- dreams and stories used to scare children, mean SOMETHING, if you are in the North.)
Relationships: Jaime Lannister & Jon Snow, Jon Snow (Jaehaerys Targaryen)/Daenerys Targaryen (implied), Jon Snow/Daenerys Targaryen
Comments: 8
Kudos: 15





	Army of the Night

**Author's Note:**

> So this is an old story of mine, which we had to write for English class in school. The teacher told us to write a dark/horror themed short thing, as homework, starting the story with the words "It was a dark, gloomy night...". I remember being inspired by the song I was listening to.  
> Now, that I´ve found it, I typed it and decided to post it here. So this story is dedicated to my teacher :3
> 
> It is a bit clumsy and odd, I suppose. It was my first-ever short story. I was - and still am- used to writing longer works with a bit more finery and plot.  
> Please tell me what you think. Thank you.

IT WAS A DARK, GLOOMY NIGHT in the capitol – the air freezing, small snowflakes fluttering in the air. It was snowing – in a place, that hadn’t seen ice and snow, hadn’t seen real _winter_ in hundreds of years. The silver rays of the moon and the presistent mist all around made the bright red bricks of the Keep look like blood.

Everything was still and silent... but most of all, the cold gave him a foreboding feeling. Suddenly, high-pitched screams came from down the corridor, where the royal twins’ bedchambers were. His gaze shifted in the directon of the sound, only to see a dark shadow pass, bringing with it bone-chilling cold and the promise of death.

“No.” he choked out.

A moment later he tore open the door of the King’s chambers – it was rare, when the King and Queen slept seperately, but the King had been working late these days, due to some negotiations and since the Queen was pregnant again, in need of rest, the King had insisted to spend tonight apart,– and waltzed in.

“Your Grace!“ he shouted. The King didn’t even twitch. “King Jaehaerys!“ he called louder.

Still no answer. Dread pooled into the Kingsguard’s stomach, as he placed a gloved hand on the King’s shoulder and shook him lightly, desperation sparking in his mind. “ _Jon Snow!_ ”

Dark violet – or was it periwinkle? he could never tell, which was the right shade,– eyes snapped open and gazed into his own bright green. “What...?”

“The witch was right.“ Jaime whispered. He remembered despising Melisandre’s very presence. It had set him on edge – right now, he would have been happy to have the Asshai’i woman in the Keep. “I saw the dead again. We must hurry and save your children!”

He need not say more, because the young Targaryen sprang from his bed to grab his sword. Right now, formalities and appearances didn’t matter. No one would say anything, if they saw the King in his nightwear – not if the childrens’ life was on line.

Jaehaerys jerked his head towards the door, as his fingers curled around the black, dragonbone hilt of his sword – _Blackfyre_ , ancestral blade of the Targaryens, used by Aegon the Conqueror personally, to forge the Seven Kingdoms into one.

Jaime’s own hand came to rest on his sword – _Widow’s Wail_ – as they passed a serving girl, stabbed trough the stomach, blood pooling beneath her body. As they went, the passed more and more corpses– a guard beheaded, another literally split in half. The cold around them grew even more, icy flowers appearing on the windows. The countless torches that had been used to light the corridors were snuffed out, only a few ones glowing orange still. The glow helped nothing to chase away the darkness – in fact, the bright orange gave the darkness an edge, stretching the countless shadows everywhere. It made Jaime’s figurative hackles rise and his heart was pounding in his chest restlessly.

After what seemed to be an eternity, they reached the nursery. The heavy ironwood door was in splinters, the wood turned to ice. The nursemaid stared at them with vacant eyes, her head laying a feet away from her body only small trails and droplets of crimson linking the two parts together, showing they had once been a person. Jaime’s stomach flipped – he was a soldier a warrior, used to seeing bloodshed and corpses, but the brutality, with which the kind, elderly woman had been murdered, was too much even for him. He wanted to throw up.

As their eyes shifted, Jaime saw it.

The figure, which towered over the unsuspecting, sleeping forms of the royal children. It was a monster of legends.

It had milky white skin – with sharp pieces of ice jutting out of its bald head, almost like a crude ice crown,– skeletal hands with a silvery sword of ice in hand. Its armour was glinting and colourful, while being black as the darkest of nights, at the very same time. It held a sword if ice in hand, which glinted with all the colours of a rainbow, as the moonlight fell on its surface.

The King jumped forward to save his children – the dark, smoky pattern of his sword sallowed the moonlight, but the silver in his hair reflected it. Dark brown and silver – the perfect mix of the two ancient bloodlines he had. The Dragonlords of Valyria and the Kings of the North...

Jaime sprung into action a moment later, trying to help the King defeat these abominations, to save the children. He was one of the Kingsguard after all, sworn to defend the Royal Family, give his life for them, if must.

But, as they cut down the wighs, the Other – the Night King himself,– brought his sword up in a swift arc and cut the troaths of Prince Rhaegar and Princess Rhaella.

“Bastard!“ snarled the King, looking and sounding very much like the dragon his House had taken for sigil. _Blood of the Dragon,_ that was what the Targaryens called themselves and in that moment, Jaehaerys Targaryen looked every inch an avenging dragon.

The Night King laughed mockingly – the sound reminded Jaime of water rushing trough breaking ice. It raised its blade, ready to kill the King, but before the deed could be done, Jaime jumped in front of it. _Widow’s Wail_ collided with the blade of ice, cracking its surface. The Night King’s face controrted into an ugly expression – something between shock, rage and hate.

The blue-eyed monster hissed, as a dagger of ice appeared in its hand. Jaime didn’t know where it had come from, but it didn’t matter. The thing plunged the ice dagger into his shoulder, where the white armour had a small opening – the blade went straight trough him, dripping hot, crimson blood. He cried out, as the monster shoved him farther away, causing the blade in his shoulder to move, creating more damage and pain.

“Traitor!” the cold creature hissed, as its face slowly morphed, taking another shape. Instead of cold, white-blue skin and icy eyes, he stared into green eyes, dotted with bronze-gold, tresses of strudded gold framing the familiar, stern face.

His father’s face.

Before Jaime could say a word, another dagger of ice appeared in his father’s hand and with a flick of the wrist it went flying straight for the King. The King cried out in pain and shock, staggering back. Even trough his pain, Jaehaerys glared at his father.

Jaime stood frozen, his limbs refusing his commands to move – from shock, or pain or the cold... it didn’t matter. What mattered, was his inability to move. His father yanked his golden sword from his hand and approached the King. He watched, filled with horror as his father used his own sword – the sword he had used for years, to protect the Targaryens,– to kill King Jaehaerys.

“Kinslayer and traitor.“ his father snarled, as he pulled the golden sword from Jaehaerys’ body. Jaime watched in shock, as the lifeless body of his liege fell, _Blackfyre_ shattering on the floor, as if made of glass. “You took everything from me, _brat_ , ungrateful as you were.”

Jaime glared at his father with all the hate and disgust he was feeling for the man, but Tywin Lannister shrugged it off.

“Remember Jaime and remember well. _This_...” he gestured at the body, _Widow’s Wail_ still in his hand, dripping with Jaehaerys’ blood, “...is your reward for chosing the _dragonspawn_ over me.”

The sword glinted with cold, blue light, as it moved towards him, to deliver death. Jaime saw the sinister – _mad_ – smile stretch across his father’s face, as the cold steel touched his skin.

The last thing he heard was the mad roars of the six Targaryen dragons above the city.

* * *

Jaime Lannister – called _Kingslayer_ – exiled knight of the Targaryen Kingsguard woke screaming, cold sweat glisteing on his skin. He could barely breath trough his panic, the cold air of the North like thousands of icy needles in his lungs.

In the other corner of the room, baby Jon Snow cried in his crib and for a moment, Jaime’s body twitched, for the roars of dragons overlapped with the sharp cries of the baby King, hidden as a bastard.

Looking trough the window, onto the snow-covered yard of Winterfell, Jaime’s eyes narrowed. As his gaze travelled upwards the full moon looked back, as cold and sinister, as it had been in his dream. He shivered and hoped never to see the dream again. He swore never to read Northern lore and stories ever again, especially not before going to sleep.

It would be years later, but he would see the dream. But it would not be a dream anymore, but cold, dark reality. For Winter was Coming....

**Author's Note:**

> Why did I describe Jon differently, than in the show/books? Cause I love fics, where Jon looks a bit more, like Rhaegar. (And whatever some people say, his name is Jaehaerys for me. Can´t Targs chose any other name, than Aegon? Besides, his brother was already called Aegon, anyway...)


End file.
